No title as of yet
by Kylyn Hart
Summary: A young ferret stuck on the island of Mortalis and grows sick of its ruthless Queen, Ratra. She attempts to escape the harsh land and hides herself on the Darkhelm.


Chapter One: Mortalis

Wind swept along the cold shore, shifting sand and salty water onto the huddled figure sitting by a pitiful fire. The flames flickered, threatening to go out. The figure pulled her tattered cloak around her thin frame. The air was cold with the coming winter. The island had already experienced its first snow a few days ago. A dusting of snow still clung to the rock and dead grass.

The young ferret brought her knees to her chest, trying to warm her paws. The fire did little to keep the cold at bay. It was small and mostly smoke. She shook sand off her cloak. The sun had set long ago, plunging the little island of Mortalis into darkness. The ferret took a deep breath, the sea air filling her lungs. She had never been out to sea. She had been born on this island and here she would remain. Neither soldier nor pirate, she had no place on Mortalis. If ever the Queen needed her, then she would call, but Nitepaw had no skills to speak of. The only thing she was good at was stealing. She was an exceptional thief, having fur as black as the night around her.

Further down the shore, she heard drunken voices. Though she could barely make out the shapes, she counted only two creatures. One was quite small and his voice was whiney and high-pitched. Nitepaw recognized the voice right off. It was Imp, the smallish rat minion of Brack. Brack was a cruel rat, outdone by only his captain and the Queen herself, in cruelty. Brack and Imp served as part of the _Darkhelm's crew_, captained by Grazer.

Nitepaw considered putting her fire out. She was not on good terms with the two. She had picked their pockets on many occasions and the last time had almost cost her life. Instead of dousing the flames, Nitepaw pulled the cloak up around her ears, hoping the two would not recognize her. Their drunken voices grew louder over the wind and waves. Nitepaw watched them out of the corner of her eye. Brack and Imp had seen her and had stopped in their tracks. The large searat was close enough for Nitepaw to see his horribly scarred face.

"What 'ave we 'ere?" Brack swaggered forward, placing a paw on the hilt of his scimitar. Nitepaw turned her face to him. The firelight danced in Brack's glazed eyes. His yellow eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and too much to drink. Nitepaw said nothing as Brack came to a halt on the other side of the fire. Imp stood close to Brack, a grin spreading on his thin face.

"Nitepaw, me matey. How are ye?" Brack smiled, revealing his missing left fang. Nitepaw knew not to take the smile as a sign of friendship. Brack was a murderous rat who would rather skin you alive and sell your pelt, rather than make friends.

"Fine." Nitepaw kept her reply short and simple. She didn't want to deal with Brack, especially in his drunken state. Brack's smile turned slowly into a frown. His paw tightened on his scimitar. Imp's paw went slowly towards the dagger he carried on his weatherworn belt.

"Mind if we cold beasts sits by yer fire?" Nitepaw returned her stone cold gaze to the fire once more.

"Go get your own fire and roast your large backside in it." Brack brought his scimitar out in front of him and evened it with Nitepaw's eyes. Nitepaw rose to unsheathe her dagger, but Imp was on her like lightning. He leaped through the air and tackled her, forcing her to topple over into the sand. Nitepaw fought back, kicking and scratching at her assailant. Her clenched paw connected with Imp's rather large nose and he let out a howl of pain. Brack took this as a sign to step in. He roughly threw Imp aside and slapped Nitepaw across the face with the flat of his blade. Her cheek began to ooze blood as she rose to fight back. His paw balled into a fist and he swung at her. The force of the blow caused her to fall back into the sand. Her mouth filled with sand as she landed. Blurry-eyed, she sat up and spat the grit from her mouth. She could feel the blood running down her cheek. Brack smiled, raising the point of his scimitar even with the wounded ferret's eyes.

"Steal from me again, ferret, an' you'll be feedin' the fishes." Brack gave her a kick as he left. Imp followed closely behind him, muttering praises to the oversized rat. Nitepaw glared at the drunken pair. Heat flared in her cheeks. She longed to put an arrow in his back, but his fellow crewmates would be out for blood if she did. Instead of doing what she longed to do, she took her anger out by throwing pebbles and shells into the black sea. After she had cooled off a bit, she returned to the fire to nurse her wounds.


End file.
